


Synthetic Lust

by tonyendo



Series: Sapphics and Science [5]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Birthday Sex, F/F, Finger Sucking, Fingerfucking, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Lesbian Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Strap-Ons, Unethical Experimentation, Vaginal Fingering, is it unethical? It’s sexy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:49:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27082942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tonyendo/pseuds/tonyendo
Summary: Clover’s birthday was approaching and Moira had intended on getting her a... custom gift.In typical Moira fashion, she had tested the synthetic aphrodisiac she’d been formulating on herself.The fic in which Moira lets go of her resolve, just for a little while.
Relationships: Moira O'Deorain/Original Character(s), Moira O'Deorain/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Sapphics and Science [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1887457
Kudos: 21





	Synthetic Lust

**Author's Note:**

> If you can’t wait to make your own horny, store bought is fine

Her clawed hand gripped the edge of the counter in effort to keep her upright. Everything felt too _warm_ , too… _suffocating._

Perhaps her gift worked _too_ well.

The way Clover writhed and tossed in bed on a normal day was astounding. She was already unbelievably sensitive, and yet Moira had wanted to push her arousal further.

And, in typical Moira fashion, she’d tested the synthetic aphrodisiac she’d been formulating on herself.

She loosened her tie with her free hand, letting out a slow exhale as she tried to calm herself. Everything felt blurred at the edges. A yearning throb, low and slow, had settled in her veins among _other_ places.

Every small shift in her body was causing the fabric of her clothing to agitate her skin, making her hyper aware of its presence. For the first time in many, _many_ years, she regretted not wearing a bra every day— for perhaps if she _had_ , she wouldn’t have been floored just from the way her button down laid against her.

She smoothed her hand down the front of her shirt, forcing back a shudder as every tiny touch reverberated through her body.

In her state, she hadn’t even heard the door unlocking.

“Moira, I’m back!” Clover called, her words melodic. She could hear the rustle of bags as she made her way through the apartment.

 _Oh, for the love of_ Saint Peter _, she couldn’t have taken longer?_

“In here, darling.” Moira mentally scowled at the way her voice cracked and wavered.

Clover entered the kitchen, dropping her reusable bags on the counter. They were filled with the odds and ends necessary for dinner. It was date night, and _for fuck’s sake,_ she had promised to cook. Her thoughts were scattered and she couldn’t remember what she’d offered to make. Stew, perhaps, based on the ingredients she could discern from the bag.

She hadn’t realized the stimulant would work posthaste and to such a disorienting degree _._ There was no way in hell she would be able to stand so long. As it was, she was already feeling faint (in a hazy, lovely way).

“Hey, are you alright?”

She’d been staring into the basin of the sink far too long. Moira flicked her eyes away, clearing her throat. “Yes, sorry. I was… thinking.”

_About absolutely sinful things._

All of her energy was going towards not collapsing to her knees, not tugging Clover closer, not dragging her jeans down and just _worshiping her,_ right in the _kitchen—_

“Oh. Alright.” Clover frowned. Moira jerked as her hand went to her back. The attempt at a comforting gesture startled her, her body reacting before she could bite back a whimper.

Silently cursing, she closed her eyes, not wanting to look over.

“Oh, god, are you in pain?” Clover worried. _Always worried._ “Is it your arm? Do I need to take you to the hospital—?”

 _“No!”_ Moira snapped, harsher than intended. She finally looked over and an ache shot through her chest as Clover meekly recoiled. “No, no, I…”

Oh, how was she to explain the situation?

Typically, her words tried to hold _some_ shred of grace, of education. A testimony to her intelligence.Yet, she felt like she wasn't going to be able to get a coherent thought out again. All she could focus on was her girlfriend, and how absolutely _divine_ she looked. That, and how she was so wet she could feel it every time she shifted her stance.

“I am _fine_ ,” she managed through clenched teeth. “Or, rather, _trying to be_.”

Moira leaned forward, resting her elbow on the counter so that she could cover her face, still gripping the lip of the sink with the other. After a few slow, deep breaths to calm herself, she continued on. “I… intended on making you a _gift_ . For your birthday. A-an… an _aphrodisiac…_ ”

She was mortified by her own explanation when it was put out into the air. Her face went scarlet as she looked away, her freckles making her complexion splotchy. “This is… something I should have spoken to you about beforehand, I now realize.” She cleared her throat. “...Apparently it’s too potent for _me,_ let alone _you._ ” Moira laughed dryly, peeking over to her.

Clover’s lips parted, caught off guard by her partner’s words. The exact moment it dawned on her just what she meant was obvious, her eyebrows raising and her eyes wide behind their frames. “ _Oh.”_

A hand went to her back once more, causing Moira’s eyelashes to flutter. Clover was taking in her flushed expression and her dilated eyes. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t intend to ruin the evening. Give me a few minutes to compose myself, I can still prepare dinner—”

Clover grabbed her loosened tie, yanking her down to her level with more force than Moira thought possible from the shorter woman. “ _No._ ” 

Her sharp tone startled Moira, and the way she forced her down by her tie drew a sharp gasp.

“ _Ik heb voorpret…_ ” A cruel smile played on her lips as she leaned in closer. “Dinner can wait, can’t it?”

Moira shuddered as a hand slid firmly down her torso. She exhaled slowly, bringing her arms to wind around Clover, drawing their bodies together. She moved with such hesitancy, as though she believed she would break her if she didn’t. “ _If you wish_.”

Clover had to initiate the kiss, but Moira greedily accepted. Her fingers were twisting into Clover’s clothes, looking for a tethering point as her restraint began to wane.

“How’s it feel?” the shorter murmured against her lips. “Tell me.”

She nuzzled her jaw, nose bumping against the soft curve of the bone. She was so very feminine, her body curved and softened around the edges— a stark contrast to Moira’s edges and flat planes. She let out a shuddered breath as her shorter fingers began to travel up her shirt, dancing across her abdomen. Her muscles flexed as the action tickled. “ _Ah…_ have you ever…”

Clover raised an inquisitive eyebrow, waiting. How to explain?

Clearing her throat, she tried again. “Have you ever… tried marijuana?”

Blinking a few times in surprise, she searched Moira’s expression. “No, I can't say I have. It’s not _illegal_ back home, just… decriminalized.”

“ _Oh,_ ” Moira laughed at that, her flush deepening. “I suppose we had drastically different college experiences, then.” Her fingers twisted in her clothes again, drawing her in. “It’s… hard to explain. I feel _delightfully_ warm— _everywhere._ ”

Her lips parted involuntarily as the hand that had been under her shirt went, instead, between her thighs. Her eyes slipped closed and a low noise made its way out of her.

“Everywhere, huh?”

“Yeah,” Moira nodded. Her head was spinning and she was losing her haughty, holier-than-thou and completely astute touch. “Yeah, _everywhere._ ”

They were half dressed in Moira’s bed in record time, which was a feat the way their relationship moved. 

Clover was silently grateful they had decided to spend the evening in her apartment— she would have died at the harassment she would have endured from her cat.

Moira’s button down and slacks had been thrown elsewhere in their haste. She was working, a bit sloppily, on trying to drag Clover out of her own jeans. “Please— _mo ghrá, tá mé uait_ — let me taste you—”

Clover’s fingers fell to the apex of her thighs once more. Moira shuddered, tilting her head back against the bedding. Whereas they would occasionally require lube for extended foreplay, she already knew it would not be needed.

The woman glanced down with interest. As she inspected the thin layer of Moira’s arousal on her fingers, she thread her clean digits through her hair to tilt her head back. Moira, with eyes half lidded, pleadingly gazed up at her.

“You want me so bad,” she observed, amused. “You’re the one quite literally dripping wet, and yet… you insist on having on me?”

“I do… you’re heaven, _mo grá_ , and I will _never_ have enough of you.”

“You’ll have to wait, I’m afraid.” As her fingers began to slowly peel her boxers off, Clover licked her lips, causing her tongue to brush against Moira’s lips. “Is this alright? Taking care of you first…?”

She felt Moira’s pleased sigh before she answered. A nod confirmed her want, sharp fingers digging into Clover’s side. It wasn’t painful by any means- she could tell that she was merely grounding herself.

As soon as she properly felt how slick Moira was, Clover moaned in appreciation. She had felt her wetness on her underwear, but it had only been a taste of how aroused she truly was. 

“Oh, Moira,” She cooed, her fingers sliding through the slickened folds. The woman in question groaned in response to the touch, eyes closed as her head fell back against the bed. “You want this so bad, don’t you…?”

If she heard her, Moira didn't respond. Her fingertips traced up towards her pelvis. She searched, teasing her as she went, until she found what she was seeking. Moira let out a low utter of Clover’s name as she began to rub her clitoris slowly. Her slick arousal made it effortless.

As she continued to touch her, Clover murmured quiet praises against her ear. Between doing so, she’d kiss her forehead or neck. A throaty, uncharacteristic moan bubbled out of Moira. Her nails dug into Clover’s shoulder’s in an effort to ground herself.

Moira, dazed, mumbled something pertaining to her research, something about _too much_ and _adjusting the formula._

Laughing, Clover pressed a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth to quiet her. “Shh, darling. Just enjoy it. This is for _you_.”

“It was supposed to be for _you_?” She sputtered, exasperated.

Clover made her way slowly up the expanse of Moira’s body. She’d stop and nip occasionally, or leave a hickey where she deemed fit. Each act caused Moira to squirm more and more. When she finally brought their faces together, skipping straight past her breasts to Moira’s dismay, she grinned against her lips.

“This is better than anything I could have imagined, _mijn schatje._ ”

Caving, Moira nodded weakly and let her hand slip back to the bed. “Ah? I will… keep that in mind, then.” Her eyes shifted to the side. The aversion caused Clover to tilt her head, curious.

“What are you thinking about?” Her fingers carded through her wiry ginger hair.

Moira tilted her head back. Her throat was on full display, and Clover understood why Moira enjoyed biting hers so much, seeing such a vulnerable position. It made her feel _powerful._ “Do you remember when you showed up on my doorstep? In Zurich?”

She blinked in surprise. It was a hard memory to forget. “Really? That’s what you’re thinking about right now? Fucking _me_?”

Moira let her eyes fall closed. “No. I mean, _yes—_ I’m thinking about _you_ specifically, yes, and _fucking,_ but…” She opened them again, a timid look buried in scarlet and sapphire. She quickly avoided her gaze as her face began to heat up.

Clover blinked at the unspoken implication. “You want _me..._ to fuck _you?”_

“You could have used more eloquent words,” Moira muttered, tilting her head into the pillow. Her cheeks were splashed with color, and Clover knew she’d flustered her.

Grinning, she leaned over her. The ends of her long chestnut hair licked at Moira’s shoulders. “Say it.”

“Say _what_ , Clover?” Her patience was waning.

“Don’t play stupid.” She folded her arms, laying on top of her. Innocently, she batted her eyelashes as she gazed up at her girlfriend. “Say you want me to _fuck_ you. No elegance, no embellishments. Commit to it— make it _filthy_ and see what it earns you.”

“I’m not saying that,” Moira breathed, throwing an arm over her eyes.

“You either say it or you can touch yourself tonight.” She was bluffing, of course, not cruel enough to leave her unfulfilled in such a state. However, she wanted to see if Moira would take the bait. 

Moira swallowed thickly. She stayed quiet, her gaze hidden behind her arm. In her thoughts, she must have surrendered to the idea as Clover caught the slight roll of her eyes when she moved the limb.

She sat up, forcing the other to shift. Their lips brushed together, but neither moved to close the distance. Not yet.

“Fine,” She exhaled, shakily. Moira wrapped one arm around her, to steady her, while the other fisted in the bedding behind her for support. Then, she licked her lips, tongue just _barely_ grazing the others. Her fingers slipped into the ends of her hair, fisting the wavy strands.

“Clover Dael Haugen,” she started in a tense whisper. Her voice was low, her accent catching on the husky tone. Carefully, she pulled, just hard enough to get the point across and her head to tilt back.

“ _Fuck me like you mean it.”_

A fire lit behind hazel eyes. Clover shifted, leaning over _her_ for once, as she took the reins.

“Is that what you want?” she asked sweetly. A thumb traced her hip bone, Moira’s body reacting to the slightest touch. Her fingers trailed down between them, searching. Moira’s eyelashes fluttered at the light touch. _Christ,_ she was still soaked.

Two fingers slipped in with ease. Moira settled back and made a choked noise. “ _Darling…_ ”

“I’ll grab it in a moment,” she assured, shushing her with a kiss. “The last thing I want is to hurt you… when’s the last time you’ve had more than my fingers, _mijn schatje?_ ”

Moira’s eyes uttered closed as she thought. “Years ago, I believe.” Then, with hesitancy, “With…”

“...Angela?” Clover guessed, forcing back an eye roll.

The woman beneath her gave an apologetic look. “It’s not something I find myself wanting often, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

“You want it now?” She wanted to be sure.

“I want _you.”_

Her breath hitched. _Then I’ll fuck you better than she ever did,_ she silently promised.

Clover adjusted her hand, sliding her fingers back down. Testing how much she wanted, she pressed a third finger against Moira’s entrance. The warmth was driving her crazy. Moira responded positively to the sensation, her hips pressing up to meet the touch. Clover slowly worked it in since she appeared so eager.

“Yes,” The ginger breathed, fingers flexing against Clover’s skin. “Just like that, bunny…”

Clover moaned into her neck at the pet name and slowly sunk her fingers in until she was knuckle deep in the woman. She set a slow rhythm— pull out, press back in. Repeat. Come here. Stroke. Press. Hold. Repeat.

While she fingered her, her thumb was pressed against her clitoris still, not wanting to forget about that source of pleasure. Clover would do anything in her power to bring Moira to the brink. So far, it seemed she was doing a satisfactory job, judging by the woman’s vocals. It was clear she was trying to stay quiet based on how soft the sounds were, but Clover would get a rise from her.

Clover shifted above her. She began to drive her fingers into her faster, with more consistent movements. Moira’s eyebrows knit together and she hissed at the change, head thrown back. 

“How do you feel?”

“ _Like I’m about to come,”_ she rasped, eyes squeezed shut.

Her eyebrows shot up. Usually it took a while to work Moira to the edge, but evidently the aphrodisiac was doing it’s job and doing it _well._

She didn’t get time to fully process the words before Moira was falling apart around her. Her body seized up, those long limbs wrapping around in a tight embrace. She was shuddering and _moaning_ as her walls clenched around her fingers, as her hips rocked into her hand.

Her chest heaved with her labored breaths as she tried to compose herself. Clover’s drug the back of her hand across Moira’s cheek, murmuring sweet nothings to her as she came down from her peak. She was careful not to drag her wet fingers across her skin.

With a shaky hand, Moira caught Clover’s around the wrist. The smaller of the two smiled at the endearing moment before realizing what she wanted.

Moira’s eyes were barely parted, but her pupils were blown. Clover almost choked on air from the sexually charged eye contact. Insistent, Moira pressed Clover’s own hand towards her lips. 

“Taste me,” She commanded in a husky tone.

Clover did _not_ have to be told twice. She parted her lips, just slowly enough to be seductive and not too eager, and slipped her two fingers past them.

She’d tasted Moira before— it was nothing new. The way she gazed at her so _intently,_ however, like she was ready to pick her apart until she was nothing but _satisfied_ drove her nuts.

“ _Ta tu mo chailin,_ ” Moira breathed, her eyes dark. 

Her cheeks flushed at the woman’s sudden use in Gaelic. “What’s that mean?” She asked, drawing her now-cleaned fingers from her mouth.

Moira smirked. “ _That’s my girl_.”

Butterflies began an assault in Clover’s stomach at the implied possessiveness. “I, uh… Well _shit…_ ” she breathed, looking away as her face turned red. Moira chuckled lowly, amused by her bashfulness. “I’ll be back! Lemme—“

Clover rolled off the bed, scurrying away to retrieve their toys.

In doing so, she hid in the bathroom. It took her all of five minutes to adjust the stupid harness. More than once she cursed under her breath at Moira for having narrow hips. Once it was more suitable for _her,_ she worked her way into it.

She froze at the sight before her. Moira had her legs spread, her head thrown back. Blazing red hair contrasted starkly against her dark sheets. Her fingers were exploring between her thighs. Her wet nails caught in the light and Clover’s mouth went dry.

“You look _embarrassed_ , bunny.” Moira’s smug words drew her back to Earth. Her face was hot, and for good reason.

She shook herself from her stupor and climbed back onto the bed. “Just… not the sight I was expecting.” She breathed out slowly as she settled over Moira. “Is this how you feel all the time? Like you just want to throw me down and—”

Moira laughed, interrupting her. “You get used to it.” She drew her hands across Clover’s cheeks. “But… _yes,_ in a way. You make it _very_ hard to resist doing so…”

Clover licked her lips anxiously. Moira was kissing across her face and words were becoming difficult. “I, uh… You know I don’t… take control, I guess. You’re _sure_ you trust me to do this for you?”

“For _us_ ,” Moira murmured against her lips. “Please… I want you.”

She nodded shakily. “Alright. If you trust me, then… pick one?”

Moira’s eyes dipped to their small collection. She selected the _obvious_ one— purple, flecked with gold glitter,— because of _course_ her obsession with the color extended to the bedroom. “This one, if you will.”

Clover hummed in acknowledgement. She pressed it into Moira’s hand, eyes glinting. “Help me?”

The woman smirked slowly, nodding. She sat up slightly to help situate it properly within the harness. Her fingers wandered, trailing across Clover’s slit. She took in a sharp breath, her eyes threatening to shut.

Moira began to press her fingers into her. Shaking her head quickly, Clover bat her hand away. “Not yet. We’re focusing on _you_ , Moira.”

The woman made a soft noise, something akin to displeasure. “We haven’t done anything for _you—“_

“I’m not gonna die if I don’t come,” she promised. She glanced across Moira’s body, and raised an eyebrow. “You might, though.”

Scoffing, she rolled her eyes. Clover caught the resurgence of her blush, though.

“All I’m saying is that you did this for _my_ birthday so _I’m_ gonna have a bit of fun with you. Fair?”

“Fair,” she breathed in agreement.

Glancing down, Clover wrapped her arms around Moira’s thighs. She helped her shift to a position that was hopefully as comfortable as it was _open._

Her eyes flicked up to Moira’s. The woman was watching her, silent, letting her take her time. She noted the way her fingers twitched against where they laid on her shoulders. Whatever shred of patience she was holding onto was wearing thin.

Not wanting to keep her waiting, Clover slowly guided the toy into her. Her eyes slipped closed and a staggered sigh broke free of her lips. As she hilted within her, Moira’s slender fingers tightened their hold on her forearms.

“I’m not fragile,” she promised, eyes opening once more.

The length moved within her with care, the wearer being cautious not to hurt her.

It took her a moment to find a steady rhythm. It had been a long time since she’d been on the giving end of such an act. It had become an unspoken, de facto practice that Moira gave such pleasures.

Of course, she’d gotten the idea before. She hadn’t broached it in fear of how Moira would respond— she’d been worried she’d reject her.

She should have asked about it sooner.

Clover had thought she’d seen Moira make every possible expression. Confusion, glee, anger, _pleasure._ The faces she made as she writhed beneath her were unparalleled to any she'd seen before. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her lips twisted in a grimace of pleasure, her teeth grinding together in a vain attempt to keep herself _together._

For someone who sought unbound advancements, Clover believed she kept herself too wound up, too controlled. Eventually that tension would give, like an overworked rubberband, and she’d snap. That dam of resolve was close to breaking, if she had to guess.

It wasn’t long before Moira was _squirming_ in agony, pleas of ‘fuck me’ and ‘more’ falling from her lips. Clover’s name followed like a desperate chant.

The command went straight between her legs. Nodding hastily, Clover gripped Moira’s hips, steadying her. Thrusting forward, her breath hitched at the sensation. Moira’s shaking fingers slid down her arm, finding her hand and locking their fingers together. Clover squeezed her fingers before pinning the hand to the bed.

Clover shifted Moira’s hips, adjusting the angle. The result was her mouth falling open as a loud, broken noise was drawn from her. Her long body curled around her— the wicked manicure on her tainted arm dug into her back, those long, lean legs locking around her, causing her to change the angle. In doing so she cried out _again_.

A noise akin to a broken _sob_ was drawn from Moira’s throat. Clover felt one of her lengthy nails snap as she clawed at her back, desperate for a hold on _anything_ to keep her grounded.

 _Oh,_ yeah. That dam was cracking.

She began to ramble incoherently, mixing Irish and English without thought. Her eyes were scrunched closed, her lithe body tense with her pending release.

Clover’s eyes widened, her hips stuttering as Moira arched up. The way her body bent in pleasure, the way she couldn’t decide if she wanted to hold _her_ or twist her fist into the sheets or her hair, captivated her.

Grabbing hold of both of her hands, Clover pinned them to the bed, forcing her to stop moving so much. The action was met with a throaty moan and a turn of the head. “ _Coinín,_ ” she rasped into the pillow. “ _Le do thoil, coinín…_ ”

One of those impossibly long legs hooked around her hips, the other sliding against her own. Moira side eyed her with the most _breathtaking_ expression Clover had seen in her life.

She’d have framed it if she were able, and would have stuck looked at it every night. For, ah, _research_.

“ _Please_.”

Bending, she caught Moira’s mouth in a greedy kiss. She arched up again, her hips tilting as she silently demanded more. Clover swapped to holding her wrists above her head with one hand while the other forced her back down.

“ _Ik zou je de wereld geven als je het vroeg_.” She breathed against her lips.

_I would give you the world if you asked._

Moira looked up at her from beneath half-lidded eyes, head shaking a little. She didn’t understand, and a Clover wasn’t inclined to stop and give her a lesson in Dutch. Moira’s chest rose and fell with her pants, her flush extended down her neck and to the top of her chest. What skin wasn’t flushed from her arousal was pale, a beautiful and stark contrast to her dark sheets.

“Finish me,” Moira demanded, voice tense. She tilted her chin up in an attempt to push her command. “ _Now._ ”

“Of course,” she breathed. “Anything you ask of me.”

The hand traveled down the length of her body. She jerked away slightly when Clover began to touch across her clitoris, as though the pleasure was too much. After a moment of barely touching the nerve, she pressed in with more intent, not letting her run from it.

She tipped over and her body jerked as she came. Her hands curled into fists, nails digging into her palms. She heard another nail snap and had to withhold a wince. Moira was babbling below her, unintelligible Gaelic mixed with English. She caught her name and a few moaned curses, but couldn’t decipher the other broken phrases.

Clover slowed, drawing her thumb across her folds rather than her clitoris. Her lips met the corner of her lips and she whispered soft sounds of praise. “ _Brave meid._ I’ve got you.”

Slowly, but surely, her body relaxed. Her arm fell to Clover’s side, her legs to the bed once more. Carefully, Clover withdrew from her, letting her fingers slide through her folds. Moira twitched away and hissed, over sensitive as she normally was after finishing.

The two were a mess when all was said and done; the bedding had been tossed about, the blanket half covering them as they basked in the aftermath.

Moira was laid against Clover, enjoying the sensation of her fingers petting through her tossled hair. It was rare that she’d allow herself to be cuddled— often she was the one _doing_ the caressing.

She hummed sleepily, squeezing Clover’s waist. “I pray that was to your liking?”

“Shut up,” Clover whispered to her temple with a grin. “You know it was. And you…?”

“Exhausted, but elated _,”_ she confirmed.

Clover nodded, peppering kisses down the side of her face. “No pain?”

“None, darling.” Her eyes searched the ceiling. She got a distant look on her face, the same she wore in the lab when thinking on something too hard. “Potentially a side effect though... I’ll let you know.”

“Good…” Her lips settled above her cheekbone. “I know you typically don’t enjoy being on the _receiving_ end as much, but, ah... _thank you,_ for allowing me to please you.” She felt embarrassed all of a sudden. And when she was embarrassed, she rambled. “I really do enjoy giving to you, you know? And I know tonight you let me because of the, uh, _aphrodisiac_ , but _still_...”

Moira tilted her head, gently bumping their noses together. “I know,” she assured, tightening her hold once more. “Let me assure you—it only heightened what was already there.” She gave her a knowing look.

Clover was the one to turn red this time. Laughing, she leaned over and placed a gentle kiss to Moira’s lips. “Does that mean you’re going to let me take over more?” She whispered between them.

“I’ll consider it.”

Clover laughed again, brushing the longer pieces of Moira’s hair behind her ear. “What, you don’t want me fuck _you_ more often? You seemed to like that…”

Moira’s face flushed. “Not _often…_ but for you, I may concede.” Then, after a quiet moment, her voice dropped. “I don’t like to seem weak. You know that.”

Clover tilted her face up. “I think it’s quite bold, directing me and telling me how you want it. Nothing weak about that.” A smile reached her lips. “Maybe next time you can ride me. How’s that for control?”

Moira scoffed, but Clover picked up on the lingering blush that dusted her face. Grinning, she shifted, sitting up. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

The woman glared up at her.

Clover settled back once more, still grinning. “I know you better than you give me credit— You’re thinking about it.” Despite all her mysteries and cryptic words, Moira could be an easy book to read when her guard was down.

The older scientist glanced away, her ears beginning to change color as well. “Well— _I mean—_ “

She pulled her close, her lips brushing against the shelf of her ear. “You were so beautiful, you know.” Moira shuddered, but she pressed in more insistly. “The faces you made… the _noises_ , Moira… _fuck._ ” 

Clover trailed her fingers lazily over Moira’s outer thigh. She took note of how her muscles tensed against her. “Are you over your little high, or do you wanna go again?” She caught her eye and gave a mischievous smile.

Moira rolled suddenly, with more speed than Clover had anticipated, pinning her to the bed. “I thought you were tired,” she breathed, over excited. “I suspect it won’t wear off for another few hours, so if you’re _willing and able—”_

Clover laughed, the noise bright. She placed a hand to Moira to slow her assault of neck kisses. “Alright! Slow down! You’re doing the work this time!”

**Author's Note:**

> Insert Moira toast victory pose here


End file.
